


Meddling

by sleeping_little_fox



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, First Kiss, First Time, Gynaecological chair, Humiliation, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Root made them do it, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeping_little_fox/pseuds/sleeping_little_fox
Summary: Root kidnaps Finch - again. When John gets to him, he finds Harold in a very humiliating position, and things are only to get worse.This story takes place after Root escapes the mental health facility, there is no Shaw though.And Christmas is coming.
Relationships: Harold Finch/John Reese
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Meddling

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic in this fandom. I love Harold and John so much!
> 
> English is not my primary language so I apologise for any mistakes. 
> 
> Please read the tags.

John stepped into the house, the CIA training naturally kicking in once again. His heart was pounding viciously in his chest, but his hand holding a gun was steady, his movement quiet, calculated and his mind focussed. It allowed him to clear the house quickly and efficiently. 

It was more difficult without Finch feeding him information, but this was the reason he was here in the first place. Root took Harold. That crazy woman dared to kidnap him again and instructed John to come to this house. 

John gritted his teeth. 

He should have killed her instead of letting Harold put her in a mental health facility. 

The house was empty and the last place remaining for checking was the basement. 

John carefully walked down the stairs that ended with another door. Crouching by the wall, he opened it and stepped inside. 

He froze.

Finch was in the middle of the room naked from the waist down, strapped to what looked like a high-end robust gynaecological chair. His legs were spread and secured to leg supports, his hands bound by his sides. The vest and shirt were unbuttoned and slightly opened, doing nothing to protect his modesty. His ass was on display as was his flaccid cock. Harold had his eyes firmly shut, his expression was tight, and his cheeks flushed. He looked like he was going to die of embarrassment, but he was breathing, and there weren’t any visible injuries. 

“Finch, are you hurt?”

“Seems like I am unharmed, Mr Reese,” Harold replied, obviously trying hard for his normal tone and missing by a mile.

John checked the room, and when he made sure it was clear, he quickly turned towards Finch. 

“Stop right there, John,” Root's voice instructed. 

The sound system had to be built-in because it seemed like her voice was coming from everywhere. Not exceptionally loud but understandable. 

He stopped.

“I don’t want to hurt Harold, I really don’t, but I will if it’s necessary to make sure you will cooperate," She continued. "There are electric wires going through that chair which can cause significant pain and even more significant death, and we don’t want that, do we,” she said sweetly in mocked caring. “The chair is firmly welded to the floor and cuffs securing Harold’s legs are magnetic, remote-controlled. You know what that means - it would take too much precious time to get him out of them, the time you don’t have and there is still a high chance you would hurt him in the process. Am I right?”

“What do you want,” John growled. 

“Ah, I like a straightforward approach. It’s quite simple, really. I want you to have sex with Harold. You can prepare him, but to make things more interesting, you can’t use your fingers.” 

John could hear the glee in her voice. 

“I beg your pardon?” Harold said indignantly looking at the ceiling, his voice significantly higher than usual. "Why are you doing this, Ms Groves?"

“I have my reasons, Harry, but you don’t need to worry…” That sickly sweet voice again. “John will no doubt make it good for you, won't you, John? I will not punish Harold if you take your time, but I will punish him if you try to free him, or you will not fulfil my request. If you want, you can use supplies on the sink,” she instructed. 

John had already memorized everything in the room, so he knew perfectly well what was on the sink - a bottle of mouthwash and wet wipes. 

“I am sorry, Finch…” John said as he approached the exposed man. 

Harold’s eyes widened in horror. 

“Mr Reese, I hope you don’t intend to go forward with such a ridiculous request.”

“Ridiculous or not, I can’t let her hurt you, Harold.” 

“Then maybe... We should do... Something… Anything…” He frantically looked around the room.

“As I said, I am sorry, but she is right. There is no way I can open the ankle cuffs without seriously hurting you. We need to do this, but don't worry, it will be fine,” he offered awkwardly and ok, maybe it was a lame thing to say, but he had to at least try to make Finch relax.

“Fine, Mr Reese?” Harold blinked incredulously, and it looked like he momentarily forgot about his nakedness and the position he was in. 

“She was also right on the second account, Finch. I _will _do my best to make it good for you.”__

__

__

“It… it’s not… You can’t… I…”

“Finch,” John said intently, effectively stopping the nervous stuttering. “With her restrictions, there is only one way to do it.”

“What do you mea-” he was cut off by John kneeling, which brought his face at the same level as the cleft of Harold’s ass.

Finch’s eyes went impossibly wide. 

“No! No, Mr Reese, you can’t possibly mean…” he hiccuped when John’s tongue licked his opening once, just testing the waters. 

Finch was shaking his head, eyes firmly shut now.

“It’s fine, Finch,” John said in his levelled, calm voice. 

“We will…” Harold choked as John licked him again, “We will have to work on your definition of ‘fine’, Mr Reese.”

John licked another stripe, this time from the base of Harold’s spine up to his sac and saw his cock jump at that.

Finch whimpered, biting his lip, his legs jerking in a futile attempt to close them. 

“No, really, it's fine. Shhh,” John said, running his hands soothingly over Finch’s inner thighs while his breath caressed the puckered opening.

He moved forward, kissing it with an open mouth and Harold jerked again, but this time John didn’t stop. He started to mouth at the entrance, pointing his tongue as he began to work his way into Harrold. 

Harold was tight, his body fighting the intrusion, but John was skilled and patient. 

He focused on Harold’s ragged breathing, adjusting what he was doing based on the sounds Harold made. Soon the distressed whimpering transformed into muffled choking cries of pleasure combined with whines of burning embarrassment.

Finch was so prim and proper that having him open like this, crying in pleasure as he was falling apart did weird things to John’s heart. He would give his life for this man in a blink of an eye. He lived to serve him, to protect him.

Harold's body was trashing involuntarily, so John sneaked his hands around the other man’s thighs from the underside, holding him down, relentlessly eating him out, listening to overwhelmed broken sobs that lit a fire in his guts.

After a few long minutes, John felt the tight muscles relaxing, so he dived forward and started to fuck Harold with his tongue in earnest. 

Finch was shaking like a leaf as John worked him open, preparing Harold for his cock. And John wanted him more than anything in the world. 

John was so focussed on his task he didn't even notice closing his eyes. 

When he opened them, Harrold was looking straight at him, cheeks red, lips swollen from biting them and eyes wide and shiny with unshed tears, thorn between enjoying the intense pleasure and drowning in despair. His cock was impossibly hard, leaking on his abdomen and begging for attention. Finch looked ragged and vulnerable, but there was so much raw trust in his eyes, it felt like a stab into John’s heart.

It was trust John didn't deserve, trust he was betraying. 

John looked away, fighting to breathe against the pain in his chest. Finch trusted him even though he was the last person who should be given such honour. 

John stood up without looking at the billionaire and went to the sink where he cleaned his mouth with wet wipes and rinsed it with mouthwash while keeping his back carefully towards Finch. 

“That was hot,” Root said through the sound system. “Like reeeallly hot. I think you both deserve a reward. It’s taped under the sink.”

John swiftly went to his knees, looking under the sink, rather than blindly trying to find a said thing with his hand. 

There, exactly as Root said, was a small bottle of lube. Thank God.

John took it and turned towards Harold. 

***

John turned, and the first thing Harold noticed was the bulge in the front of his black suit pants. 

_Oh..._

The second thing he noticed was the look in John’s eyes. His face was impassive and collected as usual, but his eyes… his eyes gave him away. John was devastated. Something in John hurt - a pain so incredible it overrun his training and was now clearly visible. At least to Harold. 

His heart clenched. Part of his job was to guide John, help him in the field by providing him with information, to protect him and to keep him from pain as much as humanly possible in their line of work, and he was failing spectacularly now. Unfortunately, they couldn’t talk here, not with Root still listening… and watching. 

Harold internally shuddered. They will discuss it when they get out of here… If they get out of here… Harold shook his head. This was not the line of thinking he needed right now.

In the meantime, John walked back to Harold, stepping between his spread legs. He looked like he shut all emotions down. He was detached, almost clinical, as he opened his pants, took his cock out, squeezed a generous amount of lube on his hand and slicked his erection. His face was blank, his eyes cast down, unfocused, unseeing as he touched the tip of his cock to Harold’s opening. 

Harold’s chest was hurting. This was wrong, so wrong and not only the situation, but this… this shell of his partner, this ghost of his friend.

“I am so sorry, Mr Reese!” he blurted out, voice slightly panicky, trying desperately to ignore his own hard cock and how vulnerable his position was with his legs forcefully spread. 

It worked at least to some point. John’s eyes shot up to him, and Harold could see the confusion, pain, anger and... guilt? Self-loathing? 

“ _You_ are sorry?” John stared at him like he couldn’t believe his ears. “You did nothing wrong, Finch.”

“Neither did you,” Harold replied sharply, then took a deep breath and continued quietly. “This is not the time and place…” he cringed, “or position to have a discussion, but we will have one, and I trust we will get through this. Please try to find that trust, Mr Reese, trust in me, in our partnership, in our cause.” 

He managed to smile slightly. It was weak but sincere and he hoped it communicated what he couldn’t say in words.

John’s eyes softened as he leaned forward, stopping just a breath away from Harold. Harold’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in shock, but he didn’t stop John when he closed the gap, kissing him slowly and deeply. Harold moaned and then gasped into John’s mouth when he started to enter his body. 

John was moving agonizingly slow, stealing Harold’s breaths and soft moans before breaking the kiss. He looked into Harold's eyes, studying his expression, and Harold knew perfectly well what John saw there - the pure surprise written all over his face as he tried to comprehend the foreign feeling of being opened, of being entered and spread by thick cock. 

Harold recognized the moment John understood. 

“Oh God, Finch…” John breathed out, his voice trembling, his cock twitching in Harold’s body.

Harold only nodded.

“This is…” John seemed to struggle to even say it. 

Harold nodded again because he promised to never lie to John and because yes… This was his first time with a man.

“God,” John whispered shakily, one hand going up, cupping Harold's face before kissing him again. 

He took Harold gently, as gently as possible, starting with slow shallow thrusts, giving him time to adjust to the intrusion and the new sensations. And Harold could feel the care, the reverence, the devotion in every thrust, every caress of big capable hands over his half-naked torso.

“John...” Harold said softly. 

John inhaled sharply and stilled. By the shudder running through his body, he was trying not to come then and there. When he collected himself, he continued with slow thrusts, changing his posture and the direction of his thrusts slightly. 

Harold gasped, his body spasming in restraints and he stared at John in shocked awe. 

“Yes. Right there,” John whispered and proceeded to repeat the motion. 

After that, Harold was barely coherent, not even trying to swallow his moans anymore. He gave in, opened his legs wider and started to meet John’s thrusts, feeling wet kisses planted on his neck, pleasure washing over him. 

“Dear God, John… Oh…” Harold gasped as John made love to him, rocking them both in a steady rhythm. 

The chair was holding Harold’s legs widely open, giving John great access to him and with the angle right as it was, every thrust was making Harold shudder, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. 

John sneaked his hand between their bodies, took hold of Harold’s cock and in a few strokes Harold was coming, his world exploding in ecstasy. He was thrashing in his binding and was distinctly aware he would probably jar his neck if it wasn’t supported so well by the chair. Belatedly he also realised John had been holding Harold’s head securely in his hands, guiding him through the earth-shattering orgasm. 

Their eyes met and within two thrusts John was coming deep inside Harold, his face contorted in pleasure, his mouth slightly open in a silent moan and Harold swore he had never seen anything so beautiful. 

They came down slowly, their foreheads touching and their breath mixing. 

There was a soft click which indicated that the ankle cuffs opened, but they stayed as they were for another few moments before John pulled away.

“Are you hurting?” John asked, motioning to Finch’s unnatural position. 

Harold blinked and then his eyebrows shot up a little in surprise. 

“No.” 

He shook his head with no small amount of astonishment. “No, it… It’s quite incredible, but this horrible chair seems to support all the right places.”

“Glad to hear that,” John said.

Harold made a move as if to sit up, but a warm hand on his chest kept him down. 

"Wait for a second," John instructed, went to grab wipes from the sink and proceeded to clean Harold, who would probably blush furiously again if he had any strength and capacity to be still embarrassed. 

As it was now, he just laid back, eyes closed and let his partner do what needed to be done. 

When John finished, he helped Harold to put his legs down and sit up.

Harold’s briefs and pants were folded in the corner of the room. 

“Let’s get out of here,” John said and took hold of Harold’s arm to support him as they headed out of the basement. He carefully scanned their surroundings while crossing the street towards his car, gun ready in his other hand. But nobody seemed to be interested in them.

***

They both breathed out a sigh of relief when the door of a safehouse closed behind them. John helped Herold to sit down on a couch in the living room and busied himself with preparing tea and a few sandwiches. He added a bottle of water on a tray before carrying it into the living room.

“I am not hungry, Mr Reese,” Harold said weakly when the food was served on a coffee table in front of him, but he was grateful for the sencha green tea. 

“You have to eat at least a little bit. Adrenalin wearing off is not a pleasant experience. And drink the water,” John said, still standing and pointedly not looking at the billionaire. 

Before Harold could offer him to sit, John went back to the kitchen counter, making himself a coffee. 

Even though Mr Reese had his back towards Harrold, it was clear something was wrong. Apart from the obvious wrongness of what they have been through, there was this familiar dejected slouch of John's shoulders. It was barely noticeable, but Harold was still alive because he noticed small things. 

He fought the embarrassment still sticking to him and desperately tried to focus, to make his brain work again. Even from looking at John's back, he could see that his employee and friend had his impenetrable mask firmly in place, hiding something. It could be disgust at what he had to do, but Harold knew John was trained to endure pain and humiliation and - in all crudeness - did things much worse than licking someone's ass. 

Harold’s face heated up again. _He_ wasn't trained to endure such scorching embarrassment. 

If it wasn't a disgust at the action, it could be disgust at to whom John had to do it but it didn’t feel right. John was devoted to Harrold, protecting him and taking care of him far beyond the duties of their contract. Harold never noticed any notion of disgust on Mr Reese’s side in those rare occasions when they touched. John seemed surprised, intrigued, curious, amused, but never disgusted. Maybe it was the sex part? Did John feel bad that he had to sleep with Harold? But it was just sex. Compared to the other things they did and things they gave up to save their lives in the past, it seemed like a pretty small price to pay.

"Mr Reese… What is it?” he asked, surprised at how steady his voice sounded. “Talk to me.”

John swallowed and took a deep breath before turning back to Finch. His eyes were full of remorse and despair, looking at the floor. His shoulders were slouched, posture defeated, like he was waiting for contempt, for his partner to be disgusted by him. 

Harold almost choked at the vulnerability with which John stood there. 

The silence stretched, but Finch was just patiently waiting for John to speak. 

After a while he finally did. “You already knew I wasn’t a good person, now you finally could see how truly fucked up I am,” he said gravely, and Harrold’s mouth pressed into a thin line. He stayed silent, giving John more time, but it looked like he wasn’t going to continue. 

“Mr Reese if you could please elaborate…”

John’s eyes shot up, surprised and a little angry. 

“Elaborate? What do you want me to elaborate on? Do you want me to spell it out for you, Finch? How I fucking enjoyed it? How each tiny sound you made went straight to my cock, how turned on by all of that I was even though I knew you hate it? How greedy I was to touch you, lick you, kiss you and fuck you even though I knew I was raping you?” 

There were unshead tears in his eyes and his voice was so full of grief it broke Harold's heart. 

“I am the worst person, I don’t deserve to be anywhere near you, I don’t deserve…” he was choking on his words, falling apart in front of Harold.

Finch stood up and quickly closed the distance between them.

“Mr Reese,” he said as he took John’s hand and led him to the couch, making them both sit on it.

“Mr Reese,” he repeated, his voice firm but gentle. “The situation we had found ourselves in was less than desirable," he said, which was an understatement of the year, "but some things need to be made clear. Even though I detested the situation itself, I respect you, I admire you and I trust you with my life. You being aroused by intimacy with me is not going to change any of that.”

John was sitting there, his emotions written all over his face - the derogatory ones now accompanied by the smallest spark of hope. 

"Also… Umm… I am not sure if you noticed through that fog of self-loathing, but I was not entirely unaffected by your... administration.” Which was the second understatement of the year in less than a minute.

“The physical stimulation-” John started. 

“Would not be as effective if it wasn’t you doing it,” Finch interrupted him.

And finally, finally, John met his eyes. 

Finch’s lips curled into a familiar small tight smile.

"Harold, I want... May I..." John asked hoarsely.

“Of course, Mr Reese. Anything.”

In the next second, John was kissing him. 

Finch returned the kiss, hands going up, holding John’s head reverently. 

It was a sensual, comforting, reassuring and healing kiss that left them with a deep feeling of contentment. 

When they broke apart, they traded gentle, happy and very tired smiles. 

“Bed?” Harold suggested, and John wiggled his eyebrows, even though they both knew none of them will be up for any action any time soon. 

They ended up huddled together under the blanket with John holding Harold in his arms. 

Even though it was only quarter past nine they were both drained.

“Good night, Mr Reese,” Harold said. 

“Good night, Finch,” John replied and put a soft kiss into his hair. 

***

The next day they woke up early and headed to the library, picking up Bear from Carter on the way.

They were approaching the building when John put a hand on Harold’s shoulder to stop him. 

“What...” Finch asked when he saw it. 

There was a large cardboard package standing in front of the library door. 

“Stay here,” John ordered.

“Mr Reese…” 

“I said stay here, Finch. I will be careful, I promise.”

“You better,” Harold muttered under his breath. 

John took Bear and they went to investigate the object. 

Bear sniffed it thoroughly and sat next to it calmly. No drugs, explosives or biological material then. 

The package was up to John’s waist and was at least forty inches long and fifteen inches wide. It was heavy. John dragged the package into the entrance hall out of the eyes of the public and used multiple detection devices they had available, including a radiation detector, to check if it was safe to open it.

“All clear, Finch.” 

Harold walked into the hall a few moments later and stopped next to Bear, who was as interested as the two of them. 

John took his knife and cut the cardboard box, peaking into the package before letting the sides to fall off. 

“She has to be joking,” he said incredulously. 

Harold just blinked. Then opened his mouth but closed it once he realised he had no idea what to say. 

There, in the middle of the library entrance hall, was a dismantled gynaecological chair and John would bet everything he had that this was the same chair Harold was bound to not even twenty-four hours ago. The only difference was that the electronic cuffs for ankles were replaced by padded leather straps with Velcro. 

Harold’s mobile phone rang and he picked it immediately, putting it on the speaker. 

“Yes?”

“Hi, Harry,” Root’s sweet voice filled the room. “I hope everything with John worked out to your satisfaction in the end.”

“Ms Groves…” Finch frowned, confusion evident on his face. “What do you mean?” 

“The reason I did all of this, of course.”

“Please, enlighten me.”

“I just got sick of watching the two of you pine for each other all the time.”

“Wh… That’s… We didn’t…”

“Oh? Oh! Harry, you are so sweet!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know how much you are aware of it, but I would never imagine that you could be so blind!” she said cheerfully. “You are welcome by the way.”

The two men exchanged disbelieving looks. 

“You forced us and threatened us-” John said, but was swiftly interrupted. 

“Oh please! John, you didn’t really believe I would hurt Harry, did you? Of course, there is electricity in the chair, but it’s to set up the position of the seat and headrest. Nothing that can harm you if you don’t mess with the wires. And Harry, I admit the situation might have been a little stressful for you, but I couldn’t miss how much you enjoyed the setup I prepared. I was pleased to hear the chair was comfortable. I had had it custom made based on your medical information to make it fit you like a glove and support your body the best way possible. I don’t have much use for it myself, but I have a feeling John might use the chair… or should I say use you in the chair?” she giggled. “Merry Christmas, boys.” 

The line went dead.

They stared at each other before they both turned their eyes towards the chair.

Harold was blushing furiously but didn’t lower his gaze. 

John cleared his throat. 

“I admit she earned a few extra points for this, so instead of torturing her to death as I had originally planned, I will just put a bullet in her head.

“I am sure she will appreciate the sentiment,” Finch commented sarcastically. 

“Harold,” John said, stepping in front of the billionaire. “We talked about how I am not a good person. Well, here is another proof.” 

He tilted his head down, indicating the bulge in his pants. “I can’t get the image of you in that chair out of my head,” he said, bending slightly and pressing their foreheads together. “Jesus, the things I want to do to you...” he confided. 

“Mr Reese,” Harold said, breathless all of sudden, pupils blown, lips slightly parted. “I assure you, you are not alone in this… Ehm… predicament.” 

Finch swallowed.

“I will assemble the chair, but I am afraid I can’t wait that long now,” John admitted.

“That makes the two of us.”

“Upstairs?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

They went up to the second floor.

“Should we be more concerned about Root knowing where the library is?” John asked.

“It didn’t stop her from getting to us in the past, so I have security systems set up to inform us when she is coming so we can prepare.”

“Good,” John said and made Harold sit in his desk chair. 

He went down to his knees - which was quickly becoming his favourite position - and looked up at his partner. 

“I love you, Harold. I need you to know that.”

“John,” Harold said, his voice full of wonder. “I love you too, please never doubt that.”

He took John’s head into his hands and carefully bent down for a kiss.

***

Root tapped her earwig. 

“So, will that be all regarding those two idiots?”

“Mission. Accomplished." The robotic voice answered.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to let me know your thoughts, comments are loved and deeply appreciated.


End file.
